


A Lot Like You

by lajulie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/pseuds/lajulie
Summary: The war is over, and Han and Leia have been busy in their respective roles building the New Republic for a while. But are they happy? As Han says, "With you? Hells yeah. No clue what I'm doin' otherwise, though." A little getaway and some tough conversations help them start to figure out the mission brief for the next part of their lives.Written for @kaetien (Shadowcat) for the 2019 HanLeia Secret Santa Exchange (@hanleiasecretsanta) on Tumblr, with the prompt, "I'm not sure what peace is supposed to feel like, but I think it may feel a lot like you."
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39
Collections: Hanleia Exchange





	A Lot Like You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/gifts).



> @kaetien/Shadowcat, it was great fun creating for you! Thanks for the excellent prompt and the opportunity to do a little post-ROTJ writing.

Han had learned to operate in the world according to instinct. To pay attention, notice things, look out for signs that things were not what they seemed. Street smarts, of a sort. His instincts served him well (mostly) when it came to smuggling, and poorly when it came to his personal relationships, a contrast that Chewie had ribbed him about for years.

But once he knew Leia, really let himself know her, that had changed. His instincts weren’t always right—habits built up over more than three decades of life weren’t going to fade easily, and he still kriffed things up his fair share of times—but he was good at noticing things when it came to her. He knew her like he knew his ship, knew when something wasn’t quite right, when something deeper was going on. 

Like tonight.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said, sitting on the floor of the main room in their temporary living quarters on Coruscant, the parts to their new assemble-it-yourself furniture and a datapad with instructions scattered around her. She’d been working on putting this together since before dinner, and Han was reasonably sure she’d had more of it assembled when he’d left two hours ago to work on the _Falcon_ than she did now.

For once, he was thankful that Threepio was nearby, and dispatched the droid to put together their new couch and table. At the same time, he knew Leia hadn’t really been talking about the furniture.

“I don’t know how to do any of this,” she sighed, accepting the mug of tea Han had made for her in the kitchen and slumping against the counter.

Han took a sip from his own mug and waited for her to continue, his eyes carefully watching her face.

“I’m just—it’s like I’m spinning my wheels,” she said. “I don’t know.”

As articulate as Leia was, sometimes she struggled with words when it came to talking about herself. But it was like waiting for someone to come out of hiding. You just had to be patient, give it time. Han took another sip of tea and nodded.

“It’s like—everyone’s depending on us. We—“ she gave a rueful laugh—“we weren’t supposed to win. And now we have, but—everything is moving so slowly. But also too fast. I can’t stand it.”

Han grinned around the lip of his mug. “Little restless?”

Leia sighed deeply. “I guess. Maybe. I just—this is what we wanted, wasn’t it? Peace?”

“Well—“ He wasn’t sure that was the exact word he’d use. 

She shook her head a little. “Or freedom, or—point is, all this, this is what we fought for. What we... _I_ wanted. Just, why—” She gave another sigh, this one tight with frustration, then looked up at him. Her deep brown eyes were focused, intent. “What do _you_ want?”

This was a known Leia tactic when things were getting a little too close to the bone for her tastes, to redirect the discussion into a question for him. But it also seemed to be a genuine question, so Han didn’t call her on it.

He also didn’t have a real answer, beyond the one that immediately came to mind: “You.”

For the first time this evening, Leia’s lips turned up into a smile. Yeah, sometimes he managed to get things right.

* * *

Han found himself replaying their conversation in his head in between briefings the next day, particularly Leia’s question. _What do you want?_

 _I don’t know._ For all his past bragging about determining his own path, Han hadn’t really ever had the kind of choices he had now. Where to live, how to make his living, what to do with his life. About the only thing he was certain of was Leia, honestly.

And Leia seemed to be having as much trouble answering the question as he had, and who could blame her? She had been raised a princess, elected a Senator, made a symbol of the Rebellion and now a leader of the new galactic order. The whole Skywalker Force business was another set of baggage on top of all that ( _thanks a lot, Luke_ ). Leia had always had to contend with what others had expected of her, so much so that it was a miracle she knew her own mind at all.

He had to laugh a little at the irony of it all; despite having nearly opposite backgrounds, he and Leia were essentially in the same place right now. _Lost_. Life was simpler when you had a prescribed objective: survive. Win the battle, finish the job, finish the mission, live another day. Get the intel, protect the allies, defeat the warlord, keep your friends alive. Hide the base, hide the cargo, hide the Empire’s most wanted, hide yourself. Free the captive, defeat the Hutt, destroy the Death Star.

And when against all odds, you’ve managed to do all those things, what do you do? How do you craft a life based on what you want, when you’ve never really been free to consider what that is?

He remembered the scavengers he’d seen growing up in Coronet City, scaling the edges of buildings, clinging precariously to the wall as they reached for their next goal.

 _We’re flailing_ , he thought. _Understandable, but we’ll both lose everything if we keep going like this._

He didn’t know how to solve it, what choices to make. But he knew Leia, and he knew one thing they could do.

* * *

Han had some kind of plan afoot, Leia could tell. When she’d arrived home, her favorite Crathulian food was waiting, and a glass of wine for her was in his hand. Plus, he had that extra layer of bravado in his demeanor, the one he always had when he had a surprise for her and was a little nervous about whether she would like it.

 _Oh Gods, is he going to propose marriage or something?_ They’d talked about it before, but had ended their latest conversation on the subject saying basically, yes, at some point they’d take that step, but not immediately. Had he changed his mind?

She put it out of her thoughts until he got that serious look on his face after dinner.

“So—I was thinking about our conversation the other night,” he began. “About what we want.”

Leia nodded and tried to ignore her mind’s attempts to guess where this was going. If Han did propose, she honestly wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

“And I was thinkin’—” he leaned back in his chair a bit, like he was trying to make the conversation a little more casual—“that neither of us really know what that is, except that we want to be together.”

She was suddenly aware that she was just staring at him, but she couldn’t help it. _What are you doing, flyboy?_

“Oh, shit,” he said, a look of sudden realization crossing his face. “Sorry—I’m not proposin’, I know we said not yet. Didn’t mean it to sound like that. I mean, not that I don’t want to, absolutely, someday, I just was—of course I want to. Just not—‘m sorry, I….” In seconds, he’d gone from his familiar grin to stammering wildly, having completely lost the plot.

Leia couldn’t help but laugh. _The ever suave Han Solo, that’s my man._ “Han. It’s okay. What _were_ you trying to say?”

Han looked incredibly relieved. “Ah—so yeah. I’ve been thinkin’, about how we’re doin’ these jobs, and we’re—are you happy?”

“With you? Yes.”

“With what you’re doing. With work, with everything.”

Leia considered that for a moment, and marveled a bit at the fact that she hadn’t actually asked herself that particular question. “I—I don’t know. I mean, I—“

“Not _should_ you be happy. Are you?”

“Are you?”

Han grinned. “With you? Hells, yeah. No clue what I’m doin’ otherwise, though.”

This, this is why she loved this man. He was more thoughtful than almost anyone gave him credit for, but he didn’t hesitate to admit when he didn’t have all the answers. Cut her defenses to the core— _not_ should _you be happy, are you?_ —but freely offered her his own vulnerability in return. 

At least she could be honest. “I’m not sure what I’m doing, either. I just keep going, but….” She trailed off, not sure what else to say.

He took her hand and squeezed it lightly, seeming to have regained his footing in the conversation. “So, I got a proposition for you.”

“Which is?”

“We just leave.” He smiled, looking very pleased with himself.

 _What?_ “What do you mean, just leave?”

“I mean, leave. Take leave.”

“Han, we have responsibilities, we can’t just—”

“Actually, we can,” Han countered, with the same grin he displayed with a winning sabacc hand. “Rebellion veterans leave. You know. That thing nobody thought you’d get passed in Provisional Council?”

Leia’s mouth snapped shut. Most of the enlisted members of the Rebellion had gone right from the final battles of the war to the early stages of the restructuring effort, with barely a break in between. She’d fought hard to include an extended leave option in the Rebellion veterans benefits package, and won.

Han squeezed her hand again, and his voice was gentler. “Y’know, a real smart woman told me once, you gotta lead by example.”

Leia smiled. He had her there. And she knew that given the chance, she’d probably have found good, logical reasons to defer her leave indefinitely. There would never be a good time to take it. So—what the hell?

* * *

Three days later, strolling through the open-air market on Takodana, Han still couldn’t quite believe that he’d gotten Leia to agree in such short order.

“Give yourself some credit,” Leia said, pausing briefly to look at a display of jogan fruit preserves. “You made a convincing argument. And it was probably better that we left right away, so they couldn’t try to talk me out of it.”

“Too busy pickin’ their jaws up off the floor,” Han laughed. Reactions to Leia’s sudden leave request had varied wildly, from immediate and grateful approval (Mon Mothma and Carlist Rieekan, both of whom had apparently been trying to get Leia to take time off for months) to suspicion (Borsk Fey’lya, who alternately claimed that Leia was taking an ill-timed luxury vacation or that she was covering up some kind of conspiracy) to consternation (Jan Dodonna, whose main objection seemed to be the fact that Han was taking leave at the same time) to rampant speculation (the pilots of Starfighter Command, who had apparently been inspired to start another betting pool).

“Yeah, well. I give them half a standard week before they decide there’s a galactic crisis that needs my attention.” Leia squeezed his hand, and Han smiled. Despite the sardonic comment, she already seemed more relaxed than she had been when he’d suggested this trip. It felt oddly normal walking through the market with her, picking out fruits, looking at the crafts and odd wares brought by traders from around the galaxy.

“Mmm, sorry, no time for galactic crises right now. We’re full up.”

Leia grinned a little. “Ain’t that the truth.” Their hands still clasped, she let her arm swing back a little as they moved on to the next section of booths, and tipped her face up slightly to meet the late morning sunlight. 

She looked...really happy.

“I like it here,” she said. “It’s so green.”

Han was tempted to do a quick mental calculation—exactly how much trouble would it cause if they just quit everything and stayed here on Takodana?—even as he knew that was not a likely solution. But he was glad that he’d picked their destination well.

“Been spending too much time on Coruscant,” he observed, as he pulled her to a stand selling fresh Corellian peppers.

“And on ships, and in meeting rooms,” she agreed. She picked up one of the peppers. “Here, this one looks good.”

It was; while Leia joked that her cooking talents lay primarily in ordering takeout, she sure had cultivated a good eye for ingredients. “Nice,” he said.

“Don’t act so surprised, Captain. I may not cook, but I do pay attention.”

 _This woman_. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

“HAN SOLO!” A familiar voice rang through the marketplace, and heads turned.

Leia pulled back from him, a concerned look on her face. “You did remember to tell Maz we were coming, right?”

“I did, I did!” He had, thankfully. Given that she’d helped Leia and Chewie with his rescue not long ago, it would have been pretty shitty for him to have blown Maz off, anyway. “She’s been off-planet for a few days. Told me she’d find us.”

Leia laughed, putting the peppers into a bag and giving some credits to the vendor. “Well. Guess we’re found.”

* * *

_There’s something about Maz_ , that was what everyone said, and Leia had to agree. This fortress she’d built was impressive on its face—a haven for smugglers, a collection of curiosities from around the galaxy, a no-war-no-politics zone that everyone seemed to observe by default—but it was nothing compared to the being herself. Maz seemed to be her own borderland, a host to the fringe of the galaxy and a curator of the sublime from each world. Small and powerful, sharp yet affectionate and tender to those she cherished.

 _Speaking of whom_ —“Your boyfriend sends his greetings,” Leia said as they settled in at a table together inside the castle. 

Han shot her a bit of a scowl, but Leia ignored it. Maz’s affection for Chewie was both real and a bit of a running joke, and Chewie had already assured Leia that Malla was in on it. But perhaps he’d forgotten to tell Han.

“I like that Wookiee,” Maz agreed. She peered at Leia for a few minutes through her wide goggles, as if searching for something. It wasn’t an unfriendly gesture, and given her experience with a wide variety of beings and their customs in conversation, it didn’t immediately bother Leia. But there was something about Maz’s gaze, like she saw more. Leia wasn’t used to that from beings who didn’t know her well.

“It’s good to see you again,” Leia said, pushing back her unease for the moment.

“And you. And this one,” Maz said, nodding at Han. “He is back to full potency by now, I hope?”

Leia had to laugh, especially since Han’s neck had reddened prettily from the implications of that statement. “I’d say so, yes. Thank you.”

Han got a little redder, and took a long swig of his drink without a word. This was more familiar territory—ganging up on Han with someone else who knew and loved him. Leia had to admit, he was being a pretty good sport.

But suddenly Maz was getting up again. “Stay here. I have something for you,” she said, indicating Leia. Before leaving the table and disappearing down the hall, she shoved the bowl of shuura fruit in Han’s direction, and Leia laughed again.

Han looked mildly perturbed. “Thanks a _lot_.”

“Eat your shuura. You’ll need your strength,” Leia teased, and took a sip of her drink.

Han shook his head, but a smile had crept back onto his face. “Okay, Princess. But you’d better eat some too.”

When Maz returned, she set a small wooden box on the table in front of Leia. Leia immediately recognized the origin of the carvings on top of the box; they were of Alderaanian design.

“Open it,” Maz urged.

Inside were two items: a red jade vorn tiger figurine, and a small fabric art piece that had been rolled up beside it. Upon unfolding it, Leia saw that it was a miniature tapestry depicting a Hydenock tree. She ran her finger gently across the weft of the fabric, almost afraid to touch it. While it was easier to find artifacts from her home planet now than under the Empire—particularly when one had connections with a former smuggler—they were still rare. Especially hand-crafted items like these.

“Where did you find them?” she asked. She picked up the figurine and felt the smooth stone under her fingers.

“I have my ways,” Maz said, and damned if that wasn’t the quintessential smuggler reply. She was again seated beside Leia, and remained quiet for a few minutes as Leia continued to examine the items, then the box.

Leia was about to slide the box over to Han, who had been leaning in to take a look, when Maz spoke up again. “Tell me. What brings you two here?”

Leia exchanged a look with Han. They’d both been adamant when putting in for leave about not sharing their reasons (“If they don’t have a reason, it gives them less excuse to deny it, and it’s none of their business anyway,” she’d noted), but they hadn’t exactly worked out what to tell their friends if asked. What would they even say this was? “We’re trying to figure out what the hells we’re doing with our lives” was probably the closest, but something about that sounded like they were a couple of kids taking a gap year after university on their parents’ credits, not two adults who had been through an actual war.

“Just needed to get away,” Han said nonchalantly, and Leia nodded along with him. _Keep it simple, that’s right._

“You seek something,” Maz said. “A direction.” 

_Sithspit. If we’re this transparent, maybe we need to brush up on our acting skills._

Maz looked at Leia again, adjusted her goggles so that her eyes looked even more huge, and climbed onto the table, leaning in close to Leia’s face. These goggled eyes now mere centims away, Leia did her best to maintain her ground, avoid turning away. She knew that Maz did this sort of thing sometimes, one of the eccentric habits she’d heard about. Though no one had mentioned the part where it felt like Maz was looking through you.

Maz sat back down and readjusted her goggles. “Child,” she said quietly, “the Force is strong within you.”

Leia had a flash of Luke’s face in the village at Endor, and another at his last visit to Coruscant. _I’m sorry, I just can’t talk about this right now,_ she’d said. She blinked a few times.

“Do not fear this power,” Maz continued. “It is your heritage. It has been entrusted to you.”

Leia looked down at the box in front of her, at the intricate carvings of Alderaanian runes. _No,_ this _is my heritage,_ she thought defiantly. _Not that. Not...him._

“It is part of your path, just as Aldera is your home.” Maz put her wrinkled hand on top of Leia’s. “Yours,” she repeated, closing up the box and placing Leia’s hand on top before pulling hers away.

Leia looked up. “Maz, I can’t accept—” she began, but she didn’t really want to turn this gift away, so she stopped. 

“Take it,” Maz said, “with my thanks.” She turned to Han. “Your destinies lie together. Nurture the tree.”

 _What the hells does that even mean?_ she thought, but Han just nodded. 

Maz got up again. “Do not be afraid of who you are, and where you come from, dear Leia. Be well.”

* * *

They were silent as they arrived back to the small cottage they’d rented, with Han racking his brain to find a way to break the tension. Maz’s cryptic words, and her gift, had clearly thrown Leia for a loop, and he was trying to figure out how to get back the Leia from earlier, the one happily basking in the sunshine in the market.

 _First, dinner._ Both of them always operated better on a full stomach, so he set to work preparing peppers and grilling meat. He tasked Leia with selecting and opening a bottle of wine, but when she left to pour it, she was gone so long he thought he might need a search party.

“Sorry,” she said, finally returning with two glasses. “I corked it, really bad. Took a while to get all the pieces out.”

“‘S okay. Thanks,” he said. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Now she was drinking from her glass, and pacing. _Damn it._ She was getting in her own head again, and that was rarely a good thing. When Leia felt like she was out of control, she started tamping down the defenses.

“We need to figure out a plan,” she said, her voice firm.

 _Oh, boy._ The Leia Organa first line of defense: plan everything to within an inch of its life.

He turned off the cooker. “We got a plan,” he said. “Dinner.”

“I’m serious, Han,” she said. “We need to figure out...how we’re going to figure things out. I mean, what are we doing here?”

Han reminded himself not to react immediately. She was panicking, and that was normal, because they were both on the wall without a tether. It was his turn to be the tether.

“We’re havin’ dinner,” he repeated, “and then we’ll figure out a brief for this mission, together. Okay?” _I’ve got you, Sweetheart._

Leia visibly relaxed a bit, and smiled. “Okay.”

* * *

Everything always felt a little better after dinner, it was true. It hadn’t quieted all the thoughts Maz had stirred in her head, but it had helped.

After they’d cleaned up, Han had appeared with a big blanket he’d found in one of the closets and a bottle of the good whiskey they’d brought. “How ‘bout a drink under the stars? And a little mission planning...if you want.”

“Sure.”

 _If you weren’t so blunt_ , _you’d make a great diplomat,_ Leia thought as she followed him outside. “Mission planning” was the perfect frame for thinking about their future—it was an actual plan, but it wasn’t so daunting. _Can’t plan a revolution in a day,_ he’d reminded her over dinner. _Or a life._ And as he’d also pointed out, their most successful missions hadn’t been ones that had gone perfectly to plan. Conditions, resources, objectives changed all the time, and while you went in with a plan, you had to be ready for that plan to go completely to shit and figure out a new one on the fly. And Han and Leia were nothing if not experts at that.

Once they were both wrapped snugly in the blanket, cups of Whyren’s in hand, Han turned to Leia and said, “Okay, shoot.”

“What?”

“Get it out, whatever you’re thinkin’. I won’t mind. ‘Less you’re gonna tell me I need more shuura fruit or something.”

Leia laughed. “I think you’re good.” She took a sip of Whyren’s before answering the rest. “You didn’t tell Maz about...who I am?” she asked. She didn’t think he would, but it felt like Maz _knew_.

Han was dead serious. “About Vader? Sweetheart, no. I would never. Not my thing to tell.”

“Do you think she figured it out?”

Han paused for a moment. “I think...I think Maz might be a little like you and Luke. She’s—she sees things sometimes.”

Leia absorbed that for a few moments, and took another drink.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing,” she confessed. “Am I supposed to be a Jedi? I don’t even know if I want to do that. What that even looks like.”

Han responded only by snuggling a little closer, so she continued. “I always figured that if the Empire didn’t exist, I’d be...an ambassador, a senator. Something like that. But I’m on that path, and I don’t know—” She breathed in deeply, then let it go. “I don’t think that’s for me. At least not now.”

It seemed like saying that should feel so much more dramatic, that she’d just admitted that her life’s work didn’t really seem like hers, anymore. But Han was still here, the Takodana sky was still deep blue, the stars still lit.

Well, as long as she was confessing things, she might as well continue. “I’m not good at peace. I’m good at fighting. I’m not sure what that says about me.”

Han chuckled a bit. “Well, I’m good at being a criminal. Pretty good idea what that says about me.”

She knew he was partly joking, but— “You’re good at a lot more than being a criminal.” She hated it when he diminished himself like that. “You’re better at peace than I am. I’m—” she paused again, another confession bubbling to the surface— “I’m the last Princess of Alderaan, and a really shitty Alderaanian.”

That seemed to have taken Han a bit by surprise. He looked over at her, studied her face for a moment. “Well,” he said, “I am good at knowing when you’re wrong, Sweetheart. And you’re wrong about that.”

Leia snorted. “Oh, and you know so much better than I do what makes an Alderaanian?”

Han seemed to consider that for a second, and Leia was a little sorry for her sharp response. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. 

“Well, I know a few of ‘em. Including one who had a price on her head but was stubborn enough to rescue a bunch of her people who were in trouble. Insisted Alderaan would never die, so long as one of you was left.” He tightened his arm around her. “And I think about all that stuff I smuggled for you. Stuff that survived. Y’know, it ain’t just worth a lot ‘cause it’s rare. Even before, people knew Alderaan for craftsmanship. It’s not about fightin’ or not fightin’, it’s about makin’ things. Building.”

Leia sighed. He had a point, but—“I don’t know how to build things.” That felt like another confession.

“You built a Rebellion.”

“I didn’t build it, I joined it. My father and a bunch of others built it.”

“You built it into something that could win.”

Leia let out a little laugh. “Still don’t know how we managed that.”

She thought back to the Rebellion, all those missions, all those strategy sessions, all the pain and the uncertainty and the small victories and the big one. From the moment the Tantive IV had kicked off from Scarif, running, running, running….

Time for another confession. “I guess I’m not really sure what to do when I’m not running for my life,” she said.

“Yeah, me neither.”

_Gods, I love you._

“Maybe we need to stop running away, start running to," she said. To _what_ , she wasn’t sure, but something Han had said struck a new chord. About building something, instead of tearing it down. They were trying to build something now, true, but maybe the New Republic wasn’t the thing Leia was supposed to build. She was trying to cling to the old mission brief, but the conditions had changed. They had changed.

Maybe she needed to build a different kind of peace.

Han hesitated, like he wasn’t sure of his words. “Don’t want to pressure you, but—what about thinking about Luke’s Jedi thing?”

“I told you, I don’t know, I—”

“Not sayin’ you gotta be one. I mean, be a Jedi, don’t be, whatever you want. But y’know, Luke’s tryin’ to build something. Maybe it could be like—I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”

They sat and snuggled together for a few more minutes in silence, until Leia noticed that even Han was shivering a little. “Want to go inside?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Their bed was warm and cozy, and Han was relieved to find that their earlier talk seemed to have lifted Leia’s spirits and calmed her mind considerably. After a few playful jokes about potency, and a lovemaking session that confirmed that additional shuura or other aphrodisiacs would be far from necessary, they were cuddled together in the bed, Leia’s head on Han’s chest.

He’d thought she was asleep, or nearly so, until he heard her voice. “Han?”

“Mmm?”

“When you said that what Luke was building could be like—what were you going to say?”

He wasn’t sure it was a great idea to start this again, but she was the one who’d brought it up. “Uh. Well, okay. I don’t know if this is true or what, but when I was a kid—there were rumors, about the Jedi.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Kids used to talk about them, tell stories about what they did. They weren’t like soldiers or wizards or whatever. More like superheroes or somethin’. Peacekeepers. Like, they’d go from place to place, help people who needed it. Come in and fight for what’s right.”

“Like a hero from the old holos, you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess. Like I said, might’ve just been kids, talkin’. And I didn’t believe it either, for a long time. Figured it was a myth, y’know, like the angels of Iego or somethin’. Just a story people like to believe. To keep you goin’ when life is kinda shitty.”

Silence. He could feel Leia breathing as she considered that.

“So you’re saying, what if we helped Luke build something like that, for real?”

“Maybe. Yeah. Don’t know if that’s what you’re s’posed to do with the Force, or if you can do that, or what. And if you don’t want to—”

“I might,” Leia said. “I want to build peace. I want to _have_ peace. Just don’t know what that is.”

Then she lifted up slightly, and her deep brown eyes were on his. She kissed him, then lay back down and snuggled into his chest again.

They were nearly asleep when he heard her voice one more time. 

“I don’t know what peace is supposed to feel like. But I think it might feel a lot like you.”


End file.
